by Roland Smith
“That old roadie? You think he’s special? He’s nothing. You’re nothing. Your father is a no-talent hack and he married a—well, I was married to Blaze. I wish him luck.” Speed was gloating.
“A no-talent hack? Their first album has already gone double platinum, you idiot. Ever had a double platinum album, Speed? Ever had a platinum-of-any-kind album? That replica Grammy belt buckle you wear all the time? You won it for ‘Best Engineered Album.’ That’s a production category. Essentially it means other, more talented people made you sound good. My dad has won four Grammys for ‘Song of the Year.’ Blaze has won more Grammys and American Music Awards than I can count. Just because you can play the guitar fast, Speed, doesn’t mean you can play it well. You’ve had nine hundred years to practice and my dad is still a better guitarist than you.” Angela, despite her circumstances, was enjoying antagonizing Speed. She felt bad for Q for having to put up with this loser all those years.
Without warning, Speed was right in her face. It startled her. How was it possible for someone to move so quickly? She still couldn’t wrap her mind around it.
“He is not! Nobody plays guitar better than me! Nobody! You got that?”
“Oh. I’m sorry. Does the truth hurt? You made a lot of money in the music business. But it was all because of a well-packaged image. And probably because Buddy T. knew everyone in the industry, and you used proceeds from all the stuff you’ve stolen over the years to buy your way onto the charts. I mean nine hundred years, and all—”
Her words were cut off when Speed grabbed her roughly by the chin and squeezed.
“Listen,” he hissed. “You better shut your mouth. You’re lucky I need you to get the Grail. One more word and I . . .” He gave her a little shove and stalked off.
The entire time Angela was talking she was sawing away at the flex-cuffs with her angel charm. Her fingers were cramped, and her wrists were rubbed raw by the plastic. But she refused to quit.
Finally, she felt the cuff give way. She was loose! While Speed had his back turned, she slipped the angel pendant in her pocket so she wouldn’t lose it. Then she put her hands behind her back again. She wanted to maintain an element of surprise.
She heard something moving in the underbrush behind her. The moonlight was just bright enough for her to see his outline. Croc! Croc was here.
Then he disappeared.
Turnabout
The fuel guage was almost on empty, and I was relieved we had enough to make it. The hull touched the bumper on the dock. I hopped off and secured the lines fore and aft. Boone stepped off and waited until I was finished.
“I’m up here, Boone!” Speed’s voice came out of the darkness. “I can see you. I’ve got the girl. Don’t try anything tricky. I’m holding the Grail. If you make one wrong move, I’m gone.”
Boone didn’t answer.
“What’s your plan?” I asked.
“Don’t have one. Going to walk up there and see how it plays out.”
“That’s it? That’s your plan? You’ve had nine hundred years to think about this and that’s all you’ve got?”
Boone was not really paying attention to me. Maybe he was trying to come up with an improved strategy. Jeez. Seems like he would have given this just a little more thought before now. Maybe jot something down on the back of an envelope? I mean, couldn’t he have had X-Ray invent some kind of force-field ray gun or something? Anything would be better than the “I’m going to walk up there and see how it plays out” plan.
“Let’s go. Stay behind me.” He started up the dock toward the small rise. I was more than happy to stay behind him. Boone walked along like he was on his way to the store to pick up a gallon of milk. Maybe when you’ve been at the Alamo and probably punched Hitler in the face and stuff, Speed Paulsen is not so scary, even if he can move faster than the eye can see. I, as usual, felt like I could crawl right out of my skin. It was the first time I could ever remember being so nervous that I didn’t even think shuffling a deck of cards would help.
We climbed up the little hill, then walked a few more yards through the underbrush. Then the weeds and bushes diminished and we found ourselves in a clearing. Speed was standing there with one hand on the case, and he had Angela in front of him with a really big knife at her throat. It was getting darker by the minute.
“Far enough, Boone. Don’t make any sudden moves or she gets it. This is the same knife I used on all your pals at the bank. It’s real sharp. One of my favorites.”
Boone didn’t say anything, just stared hard at Speed.
“Is that you, Q?” Speed said. “Come on out where I can see you. Slowly.”
I stepped out from behind Boone.
“It’s cool you came along. Once Boone gives me what I want, I’m going away from here. I want you to come with me. Listening to you on the boat today, I heard you talk about what happened in Chicago. Apparently you can do what Boone and I can do. So I figured we could go off together. I could teach you a few things about this whole deal.”
I wanted to vomit. It took me a moment to compose myself.
“Understand something, Speed. I’m not going anywhere with you. Ever. Not if you were the last person on earth.”
As usual, when it came to me, Speed didn’t react at all. He just shrugged.
“That’s cool. Whatever. It’s your choice. I just wanted to ask you face-to-face. It’s a mistake. But it’s yours to make,” he said.
I’m not somebody who gets angry easily, but right then I was madder than I’d ever been. I wasn’t a son to him. I was an experiment, a bauble, a little trinket he could trot out whenever he felt like it, like one of his stupid feathers.
“All right, Boone, tell me how to open the container or you’re going to have a lot of explaining to do about how you got her killed.”
Boone shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, Speed.”
“What?” He pulled Angela closer with his arm and pressed the knife against her neck. She tried not to show anything, but I could tell she was scared. I didn’t blame her. Speed was nuts.
“I told you not to try any tricks, Boone,” Speed said. “You must want her to die.”
“I don’t want her to die. I’m trying to explain to you, I can’t tell you how to open it. I have to open it. The box was designed so only I could access it. The grooves in the side were carved to fit my hands alone. The combination only works if I’m holding it and applying the right amount of pressure at the right time. That’s why you’ve never been able to open it, genius.”
“I don’t believe you,” Speed said.
Boone shrugged. “Well then, I hope you brought a book because we’re going to be here all night.”
Speed looked angry and confused. He wasn’t like I’d seen him before. He was intense. Maybe too intense. He wanted the Grail so bad he couldn’t think straight. Which made him even more dangerous.
“I guess exposure to the Grail makes you fast, not smart,” Boone said. “Then I suppose we’re at an impasse, Speed. The only way you’re going to get the Holy Grail is if you hand it over to me.”
The Big Finish
I couldn’t believe Boone was actually considering this. Neither could Angela.
“Don’t do it, Boone,” she said. “Don’t open it—”
Her words were choked off as Speed jerked her tighter around the neck. The knife was digging into her skin.
“Angela!” I started toward her but Boone put his hand on my shoulder to stop me.
“This is the only way, Speed. You’ve had it for nine hundred years. Have you ever gotten close to opening it? Why would I lie with Angela’s life on the line?”
“Because you’re a liar?” Speed responded. But something was happening to him. He was getting all nervous and jerky. I knew this look well. It always happened whenever he didn’t get his way. He was about to throw a tantrum.
“Speed. Give me the case. Let me open the box and you let the girl go. Then we all go our separate ways.”
&nbs
p; There was a storm brewing in Speed; I could see it in his face. But in the end he couldn’t walk away. His greed and thirst for power won out.
“All right,” he said. He set the case down and backed slowly away with Angela. “You do your thing. But you make one wrong move, and you know I’ll kill her. And not even you will be able to move fast enough to stop me.”
Boone slowly walked toward the case. He bent down and flipped open the latches and removed a wooden cylinder. He stood and went to work. I remembered he said there were sixteen numbers in the combination. The numbers were carved into a series of wooden rings that encircled the cylinder. As Boone twisted each one into place, it clicked. It was so quiet and tense each click sounded as loud as a gunshot.
Boone then placed his hands around and over the ends. It was exactly as he’d described it: his fingers fit perfectly into the grooves. He twisted the cylinder back and forth in a series of specific movements. There was a loud snapping sound.
It was open. Boone pulled the ends of the cylinder apart. At first nothing happened. Then a weird blue light began glowing inside the cylinder. It was dim at first, but then it got brighter and brighter, lighting up the clearing like a lantern.
Boone turned the cylinder so that the light washed over me and Angela.
“Hey!” Speed shouted. Angela elbowed him in the ribs and Speed involuntarily lowered the knife from her throat.
“Ow!” he yelled.
Boone snapped the container shut and the light disappeared. Dropping it to the ground he leaped forward and kicked the knife out of Speed’s hands. His hands were a blur as he landed a combination of punches on Speed’s face, gut, and body.
Speed was rocked at first, but recovered and punched back. They kicked at each other, then disappeared, reappearing all over the clearing, slugging and gouging each other. They rolled on the ground. Boone was giving as good as he got, but he was weakening.
Finally, he stopped blinking. Speed didn’t, though. He appeared in front of Boone and hit him hard in the face, driving him to his knees. Then he was gone, a second later materializing behind Boone and kicking him between the shoulder blades. Boone collapsed face first in the dirt.
Speed looked at me. Reaching behind him he pulled out a gun and pointed it at Boone. He was going to kill him.
I felt a momentary sensation of dizziness. Then everything in my sight seemed to be moving past me. It was as if everything around me had gone into slow motion. I didn’t realize yet that I was moving.
There was a resounding crack as Speed pulled the trigger. I could see the first tendrils of smoke emerging from the gun barrel. Faster I went, until I left my feet, leaping through the air. I was focused on the barrel of the gun, but I could see everything happening around me.
Croc materialized out of thin air and his jaws closed over Speed’s gun arm. With a sickening crunch, he clamped down as Speed threw back his head and the first sound of the scream of pain escaped his lips.
The bullet had just left the gun barrel and he dropped the gun. It seemed to fall from the air slowly, as if it were a deflating balloon twirling its way toward the ground. Then as I gained momentum, things seemed to move faster. I was in the air and I watched as the bullet punched its way into my shoulder. Its impact was stunning, twisting me in midair, but not before I saw Angela coming up behind Speed with the metal case in her hand. She swung from her heels and there was a sickening crunch as the box connected with his head.
Croc still had hold of his arm, biting and growling. Speed slumped to the ground like a curtain falling from its rod. He was out.
I was twisting in the air, and started my own string of loud painful wails as the bullet stopped in my shoulder tissue. I remember thinking how shocked I was at the unimaginable pain of a gunshot wound. When I hit the ground, the motion and movement of the world around me returned to normal. And then came wave after wave of unrelenting agony.
“Ow. Ow. I’ve been shot!” I cried.
Angela didn’t waste a second. She dropped to her knees beside me and put pressure on my shoulder wound to stop the bleeding. And also to make it hurt worse.
“AHH! OH! THAT HURTS!” I screamed. As I twisted my head back and forth, I happened to see Croc licking Boone’s face. Slowly he stirred, groaning as he rolled over and clambered to his hands and knees. Speed was unconscious and looked as if he’d be out for a while.
“Q!” Boone said, as he cleared his head. He glanced around the clearing, his eyes falling on the wooden container that held the Holy Grail. “Hang on, buddy,” he said. With a groan he crawled to it, snatched it up and rose to his feet, staggering back to where I lay in the dirt, bleeding. Croc took the opportunity to lick my face now and I was in too much pain to complain.
Boone’s hands worked the wooden rings on the container and then slid over the ends of it. With a push and a click, it popped open and the blue light leaked out of the inside. Boone held it so it washed over me and himself but not Speed.
I couldn’t believe what happened next. The bullet simply reversed its path and popped out of my shoulder. The entry wound closed up and the pain went away. I looked up at Boone and the cuts and bruises on his face were healing up as well. In a few seconds he looked like he always had.
We all got to our feet. Croc went over to Speed and stood guard over him. If I didn’t know better, I would have said he looked like he kind of wanted him to come to so he could bite him again.
I rubbed my shoulder. My shirt was torn from the bullet hole, but otherwise I was fine.
“Did I just see what I thought I saw?” I said. “The bullet just popped out of my shoulder?”
“What now?” Angela asked.
Boone rolled Speed over on his stomach and pulled a pair of flex-cuffs from his jeans pocket.
“It’s over. I’m going to take him someplace where he can’t ever get out. He’ll never be able to harm anyone again,” Boone said. He reached into his pocket for his phone, putting it to his ear.
“J.R.? It’s Boone. It’s over. I got him.” We could hear the hum of J.R.’s voice but not what he was saying.
“Nope. He’s mine. I’m taking care of him. You’ll never have to worry again. And J.R.? This is it for me. You won’t see me again. I just want to say it’s been an honor.”
This time we could hear J.R. yelling, “Boone! Boone!” before Boone disconnected the call.
Boone sighed and looked out at the twinkling lights of Sausalito. Then he turned his gaze to us.
“You’re coming back, right?” Angela said. Boone smiled at her and shook his head.
“No, I’m not. This is the end of the line for me now. I don’t know why. But I have a feeling that once I get the Grail to safety, I’ll get to live out the rest of my years and that will be it,” he said. “Same with Speed.”
“But . . . Boone?” Angela’s voice cracked, and her eyes were filling with tears. I had to admit I was feeling the same way.
“It’s okay, Angela,” he said. “You can be with your mom now. She’s safe and so are you. I just want you both to know something important. In nine hundred years the two of you are the best—” He cleared his throat and his voice cracked.
“Boone, you can’t leave,” Angela said.
Boone looked at both of us, and his eyes misted over. Then he recovered and returned to normal—spy, guy in charge, issuing orders.
“I have to. You’ll be okay. Call Callaghan at the hospital and tell him the threat has been neutralized. Then tell him I had to take off. Everyone is used to me coming and going. It won’t seem that unusual. Good-bye, Q. Good-bye, Angela. It’s been—”
He didn’t wait around. Boone, Speed, and Croc blinked away. They were just gone. The greatest magic trick ever.
“It’s been what?” I said quietly.
Neither one of us said anything more for a few minutes. We tried to take it all in, but there were so many questions it was giving me a headache.
“Angela,” I said. “I just thought of something.”
>
“What?”
“We’re stranded on Alcatraz Island.”
“Stranded? Didn’t you bring the sailboat?”
“Yes. But . . .”
“But what?”
“I don’t really sail all that well.”
“What? You lived on it for years!”
“Lived on it. Not sailed it.”
“We’ll just use the engines,” she said matter-of-factly.
“Okay. But we’re almost out of gas.”
She bit her lower lip. Considering I’d just been shot, I guess she decided against chewing me out.
“All right. Speed had to have brought me here on a boat. If we can find it maybe we can figure out how to work it or something. If not we’ll have to call for help. That’s going to lead to a lot of questions.”
We walked away from the clearing and back toward the dock. Both of us jumped a little when Croc reappeared right in front of us. At least I thought it was Croc. He looked like Croc, but he was younger. Friskier.
“Is that . . . ?” I said.
“What the—” Angela said. “How did . . . ? It’s gotta be Croc . . . he just poofed! but, how did . . . ?”
I remembered that back on the coach at Kitty Hawk, when Croc went after Speed, for a brief moment I thought he’d looked younger. It was like he wasn’t the same old creaky dog. The gray hairs around his snout had disappeared and his teeth were not old and yucky. He looked, in fact, a lot like the dog sitting on its haunches in front of us right now.
“That can’t be,” Angela said. Croc whined and then his stomach rumbled. Loudly. We instinctively took two big steps back.
“It’s definitely him,” I said.
“What’s he doing here? He left with Boone,” Angela said.
“I don’t know. Did Boone forget something?” I wondered.
Croc whined and shook his head back and forth.
“There’s a piece of paper in his collar,” she said. She walked up to him and pulled it loose. It was too dark to read, so she used the flashlight app on her phone.